


Avoidance

by ameerkatofficial



Series: Touched [1]
Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Closure, F/M, Female Characters, Healing, Male-Female Friendship, Morning After, Non-Graphic Smut, One Shot, Prejudice, Rape Recovery, Robot/Human Relationships, rape mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2018-09-06 20:04:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8767252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ameerkatofficial/pseuds/ameerkatofficial
Summary: Tasha and Data go through some stuff





	1. Temptation

**Author's Note:**

> Welp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tasha and Data silently contemplate their regretful actions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Occurs within the last few frames of "The Naked Now"

_"I think we shall end up with a fine crew, if we avoid temptation."_

It was in a moment that they held a conversation then, if only in flutters of lashes, in silent breaths, as her lips pressed flush and her cheeks had drops of rose that spread. There were no specific words shared, only sentiments, transient and chaotic. He was a frenzy of confusion, of excitement, of pining, _pining_ to know _more!_  But this was soon overtaken by the panic in her eyes, as his sentiments backed away, gave in to her single-minded, anxious regret.

He looked away, down and off to the side, looking to the floor as if trying to piece it all together, threading together her sharp whisper of _"never happened"_ , that piercing glare, the sudden stillness of her form, with the gentle sighs she had given, the hunger of her lips, the surprising softness of her firm legs. All the while she looked away, off and up into the distance with an unshakable determination. But then there was a sudden arch to her back as she felt his eyes upon her once again, curiously trailing down her lissome spine, suddenly stopping at the small of her back before dropping away to the floor once again. But like his hands, his gaze was gentle, curious--he wasn't a lewd man, after all. For even when she laid bare, she only felt from him awe, curiosity--

_Man--_

Was he even _truly_ a man? He was hardly even _real!_  And still she couldn't help but think of how real his fingertips seemed to be...

He turned around then, as did she, her gaze much less shameless than his had been, as she started at his firm-footed stance, up along his calf, his thigh, his strong torso and broad shoulders...

Well, he certainly _looked_ enough like a man, and she now felt suddenly less ashamed--

\--until she was caught.

His gaze caught hers then, as if he felt her searing lips upon him, and it was as if he had suddenly grabbed her up in his arms, and how she could have howled, thrashed, writhed for freedom with no _release!_

But his soft smile was what soothed her at last...

 _Oh!_ But she knew it wasn't real, that _he_ wasn't real! It was all pre-calculated, _he_ was pre-calculated, algorithms writ into polymers and wiring and metal! And yet, even with his unmarked, technically flawless form, why did she feel his warmth, why did she feel his _pulse_ , feel it become elevated with her own?

Why did she feel litanies writ into her skin as her looked at her and she looked at him?

Perhaps it was because they were litanies, little prayers for kindness upon her tired muscles, her scarred, stretched skin. With a single touch, he knew of every flaw she possessed, every imperfection, every wrinkle and pore, every slash and cut and tear into her tender and pink flesh until it became red and raw, he felt it all in a moment, and yet he couldn't help but desire to feel more, feel _more_ , more of the scars she hid, her imperfect skin, for how truly _human_ it felt to be imperfect, incomplete and ragged and worn, to have felt life and to have grasped it in one's fists, having it fight back and lacerate and splinter and burn.

And still, she wanted gentleness, and he gave her gentleness despite how he could have easily torn her in two, how he very nearly did out of pure overstimulation, excitement--and yet he still wondered why she spurned him so?

Was it because he could not offer joy? Offer _love?_

_Oh well..._

But then she smiled in return, and it was as if they had shared a kiss once again, but now it was one so soft, so sweet and innocent, like dewdrops upon a rose, not hungering, not so desperate as it had been only a few hours before. It was as if his gentle hands had stretched across the bridge just then to envelop her trigger-callused pair, and made her hands anew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sexual


	2. Healing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tasha has a nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beware: mentions of rape.

It was always like this, it seemed, that he'd find her trapped in some sort of high emotion, norepinephrine racing, breathing high and tight, muscles taut, face flushed...

Only this time now it was in agony. She was curled up on the floor of an observation deck in the wee hours of the night.

Data had just given up his post to an junior lieutenant in training who had run this shift a thousand times before, and approached the room when he heard heavy breathing, and saw her head ducked down, blonde hair being combed through by starlight, as if the stars meant to comfort her.

After considering for a few moments upon the threshold he ultimately crossed over, left foot barely sinking into the plush of the carpet before he heard a sharp _"don't"_.

He cocked his head to the side, processing--

_Don't:_

_contraction_

_do not_

_a command or entreaty not to do something_

"I do not understand," he finally replied, "What action do you not want me to take?"

Tasha groaned, shifting her knees before she finally lifted her head, facing away from the android, _"Don't even think about coming in!"_

The android winced at the elevated tone, before pursing his lips. He thought for a moment, processed the command, before simply going ahead with disobeying it. He easily strolled through before kneeling beside the lieutenant, slowly coming to sit down beside her, legs crossed, as he theorized that this would be a while.

"While I am programmed to typically carry out most direct commands, my programming is overruled in the event of an individual becoming hurt," he stated smoothly, before leaning in, his voice dropping considerably, "You are _hurt_ , Tasha. I most likely cannot fully assist in this situation, but my programming forces me to attempt to."

_"What the fuck, Data--"_

She seemed about to lunge, and so he recoiled once again, eyes flickering shut as he darted back, knuckles curling into the carpet. But her voice halted, and he slowly unfurled, coming back to that impassive, reflective stare and pin-straight posture. And all she could do was stare, slack-jawed as ribbons ran down her cheeks, reflecting starlight so that it seemed that she was adorned with light beams stretching down her ruddy face.

"I-I... _sorry_..." she stammered, readjusting herself, "I didn't know that you could get _scared..._ "

"I do not _'get scared'_ ," he reassured with a shake of his head, "I am programmed to protect myself in the event of a threat."

" _A threat._ "

Her lips became a thin, pink line as her chin rested on her wrists. A threat. She was a threat. Of course she was a threat. She sank further and further into herself, wishing she could just implode and be done with it.

Data shifted after some moments, leaning further in to rest a hand upon her shoulder, "But I have now corrected myself, and no longer see you as a threat. I am currently not protecting myself, as evidence--"

_"--don't touch me."_

"Alright."

It was funny how the stars never seemed to be getting closer, even if they were moving. The ship was humming all around them after all, good and alive, but the stars seemed fixed in their position ahead, though the light was shifted a bit up the electromagnetic spectrum.

"Why are you hurt?" Data asked after some moments.

Tasha rolled her eyes again, but was defeated at this point, shaking her head, " _Data_ \--Data, I'm not hurt, see?" she waved around her arms, her legs, pulling up her sleeves, "Not hurt anywhere! I'm just upset. I'm _sad_. It's an _emotion_ , Data, you...you wouldn't _get it._ "

"An injury does not have to be physical to still be serious," the android countered, "And since you are expressing very real and very physical reactions to pain, I hypothesize that the injury is serious."

" _So what?"_ she snapped, "Are you going to send me off to Crusher now so that she can prescribe a _daily dose of hugs?"_

Data blinked, his face and posture unchanging this time in response to her harsh tone and posture, "I believe that would be Counselor Troi's domain, and while you certainly should schedule an appointment, I also hypothesize that a counselor is not what you need at the present moment," his voice softened once again, "You need a friend."

_"A friend?"_

Data nodded. Tasha scoffed, burbling into little, frustrated spurts of laughter, but the android remained as still as stone, and the laughter slowly faded.

"Do you even know what a friend is, Data?"

The android nodded once again, "I do. Geordi is my friend. I would like for us to be friends as well."

She squinted at him, trying to read him but knowing she couldn't. Those eyes revealed nothing.

"Why are you hurt?" he tried once again.

She groaned once again as well, but her constitution had fully dissolved by now. Her chin dipped down as her eyes closed, damp lashes releasing more light beams.

"I had a nightmare," she breathed, "I tried to walk it off but then I came here and sorta just... _broke down_..."

_"Broke down?"_

She nodded, "It's when your emotions just kinda...take control. They overrun you, until you're hardly able to breathe, or even _stand_ , and you're just crying and panting, huddled up in a ball of self-pity like this," she lifted her arms that looped around her knees for emphasis, "And everything hurts, your head most of all. It feels like it's spinning, like the world is tilted sideways and spinning off of its axis."

_"Intriguing..."_

She lifted a corner of her lip, leaning her head sideways onto her arms, "It kinda is, if you think about it. Just a thought can _attack_ the body--better than any weapon, I say. _Powerful stuff_. It's why psychological torture was outlawed on earth, but I didn't grow up on earth..."

"You grew up on Turkana IV."

" _Yeah._ "

He knew intuitively how it worked, how neurochemistry and physiology could change the human body so effectively in response to emotional distress. But it was still fascinating to watch her face suddenly grey, her eyes lower a little in light. Emotions really were more effective than any _weapon..._

"The nightmare. It was about Turkana IV."

She nodded limply, smacking her dry lips before a thin, grim smile spread upon her, her head nodded once again, shoulders shrugging, a convulsive response to the statement. " _Yeah,_ " her throat was hoarse, "It was just like I told you. The rape gangs. And my sister...my poor sister... _I couldn't stop them--_ " Tasha's lips trembled, her voice shattering and crunching, before she sank her head into her knees and shook.

Data watched her, feeling a sinking feeling in him, something that could be described as helplessness, as he tried and tried and rooted around within him for some sort of response, _anything._

"The events are horrific," he said, "But are not caused by you, and therefore you cannot be to blame. If you were to attempt to intervene, logically you would become a victim as well, and would further be unable to help your sister."

"But I didn't help her at all!" she cried, " _I left!_ I left her back home--a-a-and _I'm here!_ Living like fucking _royalty,"_ her breathing became erratic, "I-I-I can eat. I can sleep! Oh God, I can _sleep!_ I wear clothes...tha-tha-that smell good, Data-- _I smell good!_ I showered twice, yesterday! And I ate  _so much..._ "

"Why did she not come with you?"

Tasha sniffled, her nose bright red as she hastily wiped everything away on her sleeve, only to spread it _everywhere._

"I tried," a weak voice replied, "She didn't want to come. She wanted to fight. _I_ wanted to fight but I just couldn't...couldn't handle it anymore."

Data nodded sagely, taking it in. "Then that is your right, as an autonomous, conscious being," he finally said, "And your sister's as well. You may be related, but you _are_ two different beings. Like my brother and I."

Tasha chuckled through her tears, "You two certainly are... _different_..."

"Exactly. Even if we were created by the same hands, out of the same materials, and raised in the same home."

"Yeah, but your differences come down to your programming."

"Do yours not as well?"

Tasha was stunned silent at this. She chewed her lip in response, looking Data up and down, her eyes burning with frustration, though it was suddenly doused as she blinked and looked away, growling a _"yeah..."_   They'd come to an impasse now beneath starlight. Surely it was far, far too late to be out and about now, but it was funny being on a starship, where day and night did not physically exist, for surely they were trapped in their own pocket of spacetime, compressing years into days, surrounded by stars but not close enough to care for their orbits and their concepts of night and day. 

But for now, the cold light gave the room a surreal quality to it, as did their silence and Tasha's soft sniffling and breathing, and Data's ambiguous presence as a being.

"Data."

"Yes?"

"You can touch me now."

His brows rose and fell, attempting to decipher the response in context. To test, he slowly outstretched his hand, before it was suddenly seized, and Tasha forced her way into his arms as well, knowing he'd be too busy hypothesizing to know that she just wanted a hug.

But he supposed that was what she needed once she barreled into him, and so his arms gradually came to encircle her, as she laid her head against his chest, wondering at his steady heartbeat, his expanding chest, the familiar smell of silicone and lubricant and laundry detergent and acrylic paint. She found it comforting somehow, knowing that this combination simply was _Data._

Data leaned his head upon hers, letting her sink in further and remaining silent for some moments, satisfied by the steadiness of her breath as well. She had calmed down. She was 309.8 Kelvin. She was safe, for now.

" _Tasha..._ " he whispered, " _Are we friends now?"_

Her response was a long, slow snore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CUTE

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy my weird avante garde vague shit cuz I was supposed to be writing a paper on The fucking Canterbury Tales


End file.
